When it's not your time to die
On Thu, 11 Mar 2010 19:53:33 +0000, The Older Gentleman squeezed out
Just had a call from an old friend. Like us, she went skiing at
half-term, with her daughter. And she took a tumble and (it turned out)
did her cruciate ligaments in one knee.
Anyway, she was very high up at Les Arcs, and for some reason the
ski-doo blood wagon couldn't get to her, or there wasn't one available
anyway, so she was loaded into the old-fashioned stretcher with one
rescue bod fore and one aft. You know the things.
And off they set. "All you can see is sky," she said "because you're
And then there was a loud *CRACK*. That was one of the handles breaking
off, that was. And off went the stretcher, with nobody holding it, and
her still strapped in.
It didn't slide. It rolled. Snow-sky-snow-sky-snow-sky-snow-sky and by
the grace of God she still had her helmet and goggles on as her face was
being mashed into the snow on every revolution.
It came to a halt 10 feet from the edge of a precipice. The rescue bods
caught up "looking shocked". I bet they did. They must have thought: "Oh
well, we're not going to get that one back."
I'm surprised one handle breaking meant losing the whole thing.